


A Day in The Life of The Willoughbys

by BlackTeas



Category: The Willoughbys, The Willoughbys (2020)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description of Starvation, Hunger Pains, It's because she was never taught how to be empathetic, Jane is a Brat, M/M, Neglectful Parents, Protective Siblings, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Starving, The twins are not considered to be individuals yet, Tim is lowkey the dad, a day in the life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackTeas/pseuds/BlackTeas
Summary: My depression has simmered down a bitSo I decided to write something.I love the Willoughbys and there is barely any stories about them so I made this!Here is a day in the life of the Willoughby children while they still lived with their abusive, neglectful parentsPssssssstttt: I loove comments 🙂
Relationships: Barnaby A Willoughby & Barnaby B Willoughby, Barnaby A Willoughby & Barnaby B Willoughby & Jane Willoughby, Barnaby A Willoughby & Barnaby B Willoughby & Jane Willoughby & Tim Willoughby, Barnaby A Willoughby & Barnaby B Willoughby & Tim Willoughby, Jane Willoughby & Tim Willoughby, Mother/father
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Another morning in the Willoughby household.

And another morning without a proper breakfast at that.

Helga Willoughby (Mother) had whipped up a hardy serving of buttermilk pancakes, american scramble and over a row of stove top maple (turkey) bacon-- yet she and that greedy behemoth that called itself Father had somehow managed to eat it all.

The four Willoughby children waited miserably at the door, tormented by the sweet smells and their own growling stomachs. They stood for nearly two hours, but no food ever came. After fighting his pride, Tim, the eldest, finally caved and poked his nose through the crevice of the door. The grand table was lined with empty plate after empty plate.

He honestly fought back some tears.

" Who…. wants to hear some mid-day reading? We're almost through with chapter two of Where the Red Fern Grows, " He tried, forcing a smile.

Of course, his siblings stared deadpanned at him, dark bags claiming their under eyes.

Tim fidgeted as a silence filled the room

" That story  _ sucks _ ." One of the Barnabys (God knows which one) finally snapped in a bothered tone. The pain in his middle was getting to him, no doubt.

" I thought you liked when I did the voices," the boy murmured with slight offence.

They were having none of it.

" Tim, I'm literally gonna eat  _ you  _ if we don't find some food soon!" Jane Willoughby barked, way too seriously for Tim's comfort.

" I call his head,"

  
  


" No, I want his head!" The Barnabys fought.

Timothy's head was the largest part of his skinny physique after all. He broke a sweat.

" Oh come on guys, there's not a crumb for miles. Those insidious twigs cleaned out yesterday's cooking, and they'll do the same thing today. There's no food. Let's just… try and distract ourselves."

A look of devastation replaced the anger on Jane's face.

" But it's been over a day! I can't even  _ think  _ about anything else because my stomach's trying to digest itself." The girl whined in a broken tone. Tim shushed her gently.

" We're starving,"

" Definitely starving" the twins added sadly. 

It was true. The Willoughby children hadn't seen a crumb the entire day before. The only thing they had eaten since then had been a crusty pack of expired croutons. Timothy gave a sigh.

" I know." He fessed, rubbing circles in his own rumbling stomach. 

" We can do anything we want today. Anything that doesn't involve food."

Tim tried again.  _ Anything  _ was a probed term in the Willoughby household. The boy had established so many rules and limitations for his younger siblings, all in the name of keeping them out of trouble; mocked, scolded, or worst of all, stuck in a coal bin.

They missed the bait. If it wasn't food, they weren't interested. Unless..

" What if...we went outside?"

That did it.

The four hardly ever ventured outside. They were sheltered and never, ever left the gate; Tim had declared it far too dangerous.

[Though Jane had had her fair share of rebellion. The freckles on her cheeks said it all]

" Stop stealing my thunder, Tim." Jane quipped with folded arms. Timothy smiled

With that the children begrudgingly agreed.

~

It was a nice sunny day. There was a soft draft, but not enough to chill the beautifully hot weather. Jane led the way, excitedly bounding into her mother's extravagant garden. The Barnabys followed suite, and lastly Tim, who was starting to think this was a bad idea as his sister plucked blooms for a flower crown. 

" Jane, what are you doing?! We mustn't disturb parents' garden!" Timothy squealed, a book entitled  _ 'A Junior Willoughby's Guide to Greatness' _ tucked sharply under his arm.

Jane merely batted at him.

" They won't notice if a few lilies go missing. Besides, I think they suit me."

He was ready to argue until he saw what the Barnabys were doing. The twins were entirely entranced.

By a Big

Fat

Bee.

They stared in awe as it took off from it's perch, buzzing about until it landed right on the tip of one of their noses. Tim freaked.

"  _ Ahh-  _ Barnabys don't move!!"

He scrambled over, ready to swat this thing into next week if it even  _ thought  _ about stinging his little brother.

" Shoo! Be gone with you, pointy pesk!" The teen declared swiping at the insect.

Bad idea. The bee sprung up and did what all bees do when one swipes at them. Timothy screamed for his life, tossing his read aside as the insect chased him around the yard, all the while his siblings watched. The nightmare didn't end until the bee was caught--- by one of the Barnabys.

" No, don't touch that! It's gonna-"

" Sting? No he won't sting. This is a hoverfly, Tim."

Tim blinked, cowering by the fence. He watched horrified as the bug crawled out of Barnaby's palm.

" They look like bees, but they're merely lookalikes. They can be identified by their short antennas and single pair of wings." The other twin chimed from behind.

" But not unlike bees, they are expert pollinators." The first finished. He watched in awe as the creature took off before helping Tim to his feet.

Jane immediately started laughing.

" Hahahaha!! You were running away from a hoverfly!" She teased, weaving her stems together.

Timothy huffed as the other Barnaby handed him his fallen book.

He stomped over to a shaded patch under a tree and opened up to his bookmark, mumbling something about this still being a bad idea as he picked up on his reading.

_ To be a Willoughby is not only to be great. We carry a lineage to receptiveness and monumental adherence of that that surrounds us. Then and only then can we bid to our fullest potential. To utilize what one has is to be wise. To absorb, be absorbed, and work, that is greatness. That is a Willoughby. _

The teen smiled to himself. He relished in his family history, longing to discover what made him bound for greatness. 

His ancestors were leaders-- artists, kings, scientists and scholars! They had paved the way, changed the world for generations to come. His fate couldn't be left to waste away in the moldy corner of a coal bin.

The only thing that brought him joy each day was to reminisce in their great Willoughby potential; how he longed to be a great Willoughby someday. He read on.

_ Maintaining a legacy is not only action, but habit--- and it all starts with you. What will you do today? How will it change tomorrow? However this hardcover found it's way in your young, endearing grasp, we will review the greatest bloodline and it's milestones, rituals of great Willoughby tradition, and what small habits you can incorporate into your day to start the foundations of building your own corner of this great legacy. _

Tim found himself suddenly unable to concentrate as all the outside noises invaded his focus:

Jane hummed to herself as she braided the liles together, the wind gently swaying her strands of candy apple red. It wasn't long before the girl actually started  _ singing _ : words, riffs runs and all. Tim nearly died.

The Barnabys had decided to build something and were off to gather their tools. The two returned shortly and began hell-pounding some nails into a tree with a large mallet.

_ Pow! _

_ Pow! _

_ Pow! _

_ Pow! _

Tim furrowed his brows and tried to focus in on the words of the page. He wished his siblings wouldn't be so noisy--- parents didn't like noise.  _ This is a bad idea,  _ he thought again as he skimmed the chapter. Following the intro, the book had begun to discuss the Willoughbys of old and their amazing lives and accomplishments:

Sir Benedict Archery Clifton Willoughby

Head developer for the tetanus vaccine 

Ichabod Writingham Marcquel Willoughby

language scholar and author 

Lord Tybalt Birmingham Cromwell Willoughby 

Visual artist and founder of De Stijl in the early 1900s 

Countess Guinevere Beatrix Rainydayas Willoughby 

First Female Military commander of three centuriae

Tim faced his second interruption when he felt something fall on his head.

" What the?-"

He looked up to see Jane beaming over him, her lips formed around that toothy grin. The boy raised his brow, curiously reaching up and brushing his forehead. A flower crown.

" Jane! That's way too many-"

" If I pick a few from different patches, they won't suspect a thing. I'd say I did pretty well for four crowns."

_ Four crowns? _

Tim peered over at the Barnabys. They too had flowery corets, matching around their mushroom bobs as they worked on god knows what.

He sighed heavily, but didn't protest any further, trying to focus back on his book.

" What are you doing?" Jane asked, leaning over the boy to see. Her long hair fell onto the pages as she leaned, completely impairing Tim's view. He swept it out of the way with annoyance.

" Nothing." He grumbled.

" Reading outside?  _ Yawn _ . Come and play with me!" Jane insisted, bouncing up and down, using her brother's shoulders as leverage. Timothy just glared sternly.

" Um, vandalizing a flower patch is not exactly playing, soo I think I'll stick with the reading."

Jane retorted with another dramatic, " _ yawn".  _ She held her mouth open, then looked down at her tongue, curious.

" Hey, is my tongue fat?" The girl questioned, holding it out for her brother to take a look. Tim recoiled in disgust.

" Bug off, Jane!" He demanded 

The girl shrank back slightly, before crossing her arms.

"  _ mphhhhhhhh!!"  _ She stuck out her tongue again like a brat before prancing off, to a place where her company would be wanted.

Timothy grunted, burying his nose into the pages once again.

He truly did love his sister Jane, but at times she could be so,....  _ aloof  _

Seldom aware of Parents' feelings or dangers, just going about causing trouble and showing her tongue to people who didn't want to see it.

_ This is a bad idea _

He thought again as he tried to power through a paragraph.

In the midst of his struggle, the Barnabys had made a rather well built tire swing. One gleeful pushed his clone in it, a rhythmic, " _ weeeeee"  _ ringing out _ each  _ instance he'd sway back and forth. It wasn't long before they switched turns and the other had a go while his twin pushed. Soon, the boys had had as many turns as they could spare, and decided they wanted to ride their invention together.

" Jane," they both peeped identically.

She pranced over and happily agreed to push her brothers on their new swing.

" Hold on tight," Tim heard her order.

Their laughter chimed throughout the yard as Jane pushed the tire swing with all her might. Before long, she too had had more turns than she could spare and she  _ too _ wanted to ride the invention along with the Barnabys. That left a lone skinny-boned boy for the job.

" Tim come push us!" The young Willoughby cried out from across the yard.

Timothy sighed, shoving his bookmark into the read as a placeholder.

He walked over to his siblings, watching as they all anxiously kicked their feet, ready for the lift.

" Is that even strong enough?" He questioned as he watched the structure bob and bounce each time one of the kids would kick their legs.

" Of course it's strong enough!" Jane quickly answered back.

" The  _ Barnabys  _ made it."

Time couldn't fight with her on that one. The twins were excellent and precise builders. He grabbed the tire, drew back as far as he could, and gave a laboured shove. The Willoughbys squealed with delight as they sored, and Tim couldn't help but smile at their instantaneous happiness. It soon became a blissful sight; four young children twinkling with joy as they played in the lush of their front yard, flower crowns highlighted it the sun beam.

But the tenderness wouldn't last. Not if Helga Willoughby could help it.

She popped right out of the front door, scaring the wits out of her kids.

" Hide!" Tim hissed, and they vanished, seeking refuge behind the large oak tree.

They peaked out and watched the woman as she hummed, a watering pot smug in her hands. She had come out to water her plants. Tim internally panicked as his mother went from patch to patch, humming dumbly to herself and hydrating her flowers.

" Is she gone yet?" Jane whispered impatiently, only to be shushed by the twins.

They all stared, anxious and horrified as she visited her petunias, her daisies, her hibiscues, her lavenders, her roses.

It took a lifetime, but Mother finally finished the task and went back inside.

_ She didn't seem to notice the missing flowers. _

" Phew! That was close. Come on Tim, I want to touch the top of the fence this time!" Jane retorted hastily, hoping back into the swing seat. Tim winced, hesitant.

  
  


" Maybe that isn't such a good idea.." He pondered, still trembling from almost coming face to face with that monster.

Jane groaned dramatically.

" What now?" She dragged. The older Willoughby crossed his arms. How could one have such an attitude in the midst of a situation so grave.

" Jane, Mother could have noticed her garden." Tim scolded. Jane was unmoved.

" But she didn't. That's because I know what I'm doing!" She sassed back. Tim's blood boiled.

" No Jane, you don't! I can't have you playing with Parents and jeopardizing your safety like that!" He snapped with a raised tone.

" Whatever." Jane mumbled, kicking the soil beneath her heels. She softly wavered back and forth, the swing whining with each rock. Tim bit his lip, guilt burning in his throat, but it was soon overrode by the consistent squeaking sound.

" And maybe  _ that _ isn't such a good idea either." He added sternly. Jane stopped and glared at her brother. Tim cleared his throat and turned to the Barnabys.

" Let's all try to be a little bit quieter, for our sake. Who knows, maybe lillies get watered twice a day. Silent games from now on, ok?"

The twins nodded in understanding.

Jane groaned and got off the swing 

Despite the grievance, the Willoughby children listened to their older brother and continued to play on the downlow.

The Barnabys were now inspecting weeds, and Jane had retired to playing a solo game of invisible hopscotch.

Tim returned to what he had been trying to do from the beginning; reading.

_ A Willoughby is a very distinguishable character. He will have an exterior charm, be well read, and have catching facial hair of Willoughby Red. The mouser must be maintained quotidianly as it flourishes like garden crest in the summer months. It shall be trimmed twice a day, once before sunrise, and again before noon. Though unlike the garden crest, a Willoughby should not remain in the sun too long. Our red hair means we naturally have less UV blockers, so be sure to stay shaded or limit sun exposure to no less than six minutes _ .

Tim slowly lifted his head from the pages.

_ No less than six minutes? _

What would happen if a Willoughby stayed out in the sun for more than six minutes?

First degree burns? Illness? Worse!?

Last time he checked, he and all his siblings were Willoughbys. And they had been outside for..

_ Gosh _ , he couldn't even guess how long.

Could have been five minutes, could've been thirty.

A certain someone(s) would know for sure.

" Barnaby,"

"Yes Tim?" Both twins chorused in unison.

" Precisely  _ how _ long have we been out here?" The teen pondered, worrying his thumbnail.

" Approximately sixteen minutes."

" Sixteen minutes and fifty nine seconds."

That was all the confirmation he needed.

" Nope; no no no, I  _ knew  _ this was a bad idea!" The boy muttered to himself as he rallied up his siblings.

"  _ Hey! _ " Jane whined as he took hold of her arm, dragging her about before scooping up the twins.

He led them right back into that house. 

That dusty, cobweb infected, dreary old fashioned house.

Tim let out an audible sigh of relief after he had closed the door.

" What happened to silent games?" Jane asked. Tim could tell her mood was soured by the distance in her words, but knowing Jane, it wouldn't last long.

" I forgot the indoor part. It's safer in here." 

Tim hurried them all upstairs, making sure to avoid their parents who were in the sitting room.

They returned to their library, and Tim offered a wealth of activities they could all do inside.

But let's face it, indoor activities don't compare to the outdoor fun. The four grew bored. And with boredom came the return of hunger pains

Timothy tried to do some reading, but he could barely make out the words in front of him.

Jane attempted to hold a note on her harmonica ( she was feeling a bit spiteful over Tim's  _ silent games  _ policy), but her stomach held a completely different one that threw off the entire song [and Mother and Father immediately started barking at her with that retched: " I can't knit!"]

The Barnabys planned on building that dirigible from an old blueprint they had, but their sugars were so low that they ended up fastening all the wrong screws in all the wrong places.

" This is impossible!" Jane finally declared, tossing the mouthpiece piece aside.

She strode over to Tim promptly, who was seated crescent in his hammock struggling to see the print of the book. 

" Tim, we need to  _ eat _ ," She claimed strongly. Her hair had fanned out into a frizzy halo, and her eyes were framed by dark circles.

Tim glared down at his sister pitifully and empty handed.

" Jane, there isn't any food today." He restated just as before.

" We have to think of something! Maybe they have some left-over orange juice, or maybe even pancake jam--"

"  _ There is no food!" _

Jane threw her arms up in the air as if ready to go off on a tangent.

" This is insanity! All I can think about is food.  _ My stomach hurts so much.."  _ she whined, clenching her stomach; it made a low grumble in response. The hunger pains were becoming too much.

Tim pitied her, he truly did. In fact, he was absolutely starving himself. But he knew there wouldn't be any food and they might as well not get their hopes up about it. He had to keep them happy, distracted-- although that was proving to be a task.

" Let's try a puzzle. What do you say guys?" He encouraged, letting his book close with a  _ clap. _ The boy looked from his sister to his brothers.

The Barnabys were collapsed on the floor around their failed dirigible.

Jane was still grasping her stomach, looking as though she'd pass out any instant.

" I can't focus on anything, let alone a puzzle. I think I might be sick," she murmured in an uncharacteristically soft voice, leaning against a stack of books.

Tim panicked.

" Jane don't!" He warned. The teen softly climbed down from his perch to comfort his sister. He pat her head, trying to lay down the fuzz around her roots.

_ " I would do anything, even for the batter of a pancake," _ she claimed with her eyes closed.

Tim drew in a breath before saying:

" Okay-- let's give it one more look."

~

They remedged through the cabinets hoping to find a jar of preserves or perhaps some uncooked pasta. The four of them had once eaten an entire bag of sugar together without even a grain to spare.

The draws only mocked them with a ghost town. The children even scanned the floors, hoping for a dollop of pancake batter that had maybe wandered during cooking. A raw onion that had dived off the cutting board before it could be sauteed for eggs.

Helga was certainly incredibly stupid, but she sure wasn't untidy. Every pan, nook, and crevice had been cleaned impeccably.

" Man, they are  _ good!"  _ Timothy hissed after having ransacked the third set of kitchen drawers. All he'd found were the damp streak marks of Helga's sponge, having just polished everything.

" Have we checked the storage pantry?" Jane called desperately from her fridge hunt.

" Yes." The Barnabys answered back, peeking out from a high cupboard they had somehow managed to reach.

" Refrigerator draws?" The girl mumbled, more so to herself as she triple- checked.

The twins nodded, already knowing the fate of that search.

" Storage closet?"

They all fell silent.

" No."

" I don't think so." 

The Barnabys responded. After a moment of stillness, the two climbed down from the counters and went to the closet all four of them had somehow managed to overlook.

They gawked. Inside were bottles and bottles of condiments, spices, and an entire holder of full-fat butter.

~

Jane mashed softened butter into a bowl with the other ingredients, not even certain what she was making. She didn't stop until it seemed to form…. the  _ right  _ consistency?

She scooped the gop onto a spoon and handed it to one of the twins, who was seated keenly on the countertop.

" Here, try it. Tell me what you think."

Barnaby licked cautiously at the spoon while his siblings watched both anxiously and with disgust.

" Hm, not bad. It's like alfredo and icing had a baby."

" That would be called buttercream, I think," the other Barnaby claimed, eyeing the spoon dreamily until his brother handed it to him for a turn.

Jane gleamed as she watched the twins greedily shovel down the  _ "icing";  _ she seemed proud that she was able to provide her brothers with  _ something  _ to eat. 

Tim, on the other hand, was all but pleased. He couldn't help but grimace as the two demolished the gunk; each lick made his stomach tighten in sickly knot.

" Didn't know frosting included  _ relish."  _ The Willoughby said, holding the butter and spoon Jane had used.

" Beggars can't be chooser, Big Bro." Jane responded as the twins ate without hesitation.

" See; they're not picky." She added with a smile. Tim made a face.

" If I eat that, I might turn into a grease monster or something." He insisted. At those words, his siblings gasped and turned to him with fear stricken eyes. Timothy raised a brow.

" Relax, I can't do it until I try Jane's potion, which will  _ never  _ happen." He chuckled. But that didn't seem to soothe their nerves. It didn't take long for the boy to realize that they were petrified by something  _ behind  _ him. Tim would soon learn what it was.

" What are you doing in Mother's kitchen?"

A shrill shiver traveled up the boy's spine. He yelped and whirled around.

It was Walter (the sorriest excuse for a father a child could ever wish for), all 5'11 of him with that wretched vintage vest and a button up necktie.

" Soiling Mother's butter holder I see,"

Tim peered down to see the antique piece in his hand. A sweat broke out on his forehead as he fumbled to explain.

"  _ l-I was ju-just, I want-nted to to-" _

" I  **waS jUsT, I WanTeD To!"** Father mocked, a look of disgust plastered to his face.

" I was just holding it," Timothy swore, his poor grip growing clammy as his father stared him down 

"  _ Holding it _ with your devilishly tacky, childish little hands,  **_ugh!_ ** " The man yanked out a hankie and took the holder, wiping it clean as Mother had, cooing over the object as though Tim had just hurt it's feelings or something.

" Sweat prints on the fruits of her labor;

how  _ dare _ you!"

Tim could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He could almost smell the burning fire of the coal bin now.

" I didn't mean to leave anything. I'm sorry Father." He pleaded, his voice breaking.

" As a pest doesn't wish to reck havoc and bring his friends. And look, one I've never seen before!"

Father pointed at his  _ daughter _ , Jane, as though she were an intruder. The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes.

" They fester and multiple, each time finding a new way to grievance;

_ And what is that hideous new mockery on your head!?" _

Tim's tongue became sandpaper in his mouth at the rise in his father's tone. The flower crown Jane had weaved for him still lie on his head, though under the disciplinary glare of his parent, he felt far from royalty.

" Uh nothing. It's my-"

" It's his head protector!" Jane piped in. The Barnabys, who were slightly hidden behind their sister, nodded in agreement.

Walter wrinkled his nose, repulsed.

" It speaks. And what an ear-damning little voice it's got, too!" 

The twins furrowed their brows.

Father went on.

" You infections with your childish needs 

Always wearing head protectors and smudging our butter holders!"

He spat down at Timothy, who looked as though he'd burst into tears any minute.

"~Disgraceful ~

How damned I was to name you.

My gene pool needs someone on duty,"

At that he turned and left.

" That _ pigeon-livered ratbag _ ," A Barnaby hissed the moment Walter was out of earshot.

Tim gasped in disbelief. But before he could scold him,

" What a muck-sputtering, dew-beating, fusty-lunged hornswoggler!!" His twin brother chimed with a dark, poisonous voice.

Tim was speechless.

Jane nodded her head, a knowing scowl played on her face.

" That  _ bastard _ !" She spat sharply in her father's direction.

The Willoughby boys gasped, the twins' anger seemingly replaced by shock.

Tim opened his mouth to finally discourage the swears

But only laughter escaped.

Not only was Jane's curse funny, but it was also true: Father was a bastard.

" Bastard," he tried the star-crossed word on his own tongue before erupting with humor

His siblings joined in, the kitchen quickly filling with gleeful hysteria.

" bastard,"

" Bastard!"

" bAstArD!!"

They echoed, each time laughing harder than before.

-

  
  


Dinnertime eventually rolled around. Swing music boomed from the dining room as Mother served what could only be described as a small feast.

On the menu that night was a whole baked rosemary and butter brushed chicken, a pumpkin and sage pasta dish garnished with a healthy shredding of gruyère [scrap the bits; Willouhbys did not eat pork] and freshly made garlic knots, all stamped with that signature, " W"

The Willoughby children were defeated, but desperately starving, so they waited like begging puppies at the door for their after dinner scraps.

"Willoughbys do not abandon hope. Certainly they couldn't possibly manage to eat the middles of  _ all  _ the garlic knots." Tim analyzed with a pointer to his lip.

He drooled at the notion of getting his hands on a newly baked bun, the outside a golden brown, the middle chewy and soft with smoke piping hot.

Surely he hadn't the luxury, but it was a dream so vivid he could almost  _ taste _ it.

Almost.

" Hope I didn't ruin it for the twins." Jane winced, nodding towards her younger brothers.

The Barnabys both sat on the same chair looking quite sick, possibly from the ghastly concoction their sister had given them earlier.

" Is it hot in here?"

" It is; definitely hot,"

They muttered as if on cue.

" That is… if the  _ bastard  _ doesn't hog everything today, just like yesterday."

" Don't say bastard! It isn't very ladylike," Timothy quickly detested as though they hadn't just played with the curse a few moments back. 

Jane squinted.

" You would know  _ all  _ about it, wouldn't you Timothy?" She hissed sarcastically, glaring at the older Willoughby. He glared back, shifting to his soles so that he  _ really  _ towered over the little girl.

" You know, if I hadn't witnessed your birth, I wouldn't think you were a lady at all. I think you're more part  _ arrogant  _ than you are girl!"

The pair had a long, spiteful staring contest that was only interrupted by Parents doting over one another. Both siblings stopped to peek through the keyhole: 

" Mother, my Dove. This meal is just divine and lumbered to  _ puuurfection,"  _ the word rolled off of Father's tongue as he cleaned a fork soiled with spaghetti sauce. Helga batted her eyes.

" You always twiddle my fiddle, you sly old pet!" She cooed, twirling her earring bashfully.

"Honesty is flattery, you silly weasel, you."

" Oh Father~" 

" Dearest Mother~"

The two leaned in for a long smooch in the midst of a noodle.

Father licked his lips passionately, wiping a thin line of red hair out of Mother's face.

"Keep up this culinary mastery and I'll twiddle your fiddle more often!"

That did it. Jane turned away from the door and fake-gagged dramatically, pointing her finger to the back of her throat.

" Gross!" She exclaimed.

"  _ Insidious,"  _ Tim murmured in disgust.

The siblings slumped down on the floor at the same instant, staring down onto the tiles.

" Do you really think we'll get something to eat this time?" Jane asked, looking emptied.

" That is the recurring hope." Tim sighed. Jane smiled

"  _ Hope _ . I like that word." She said with a grin, an old glimmer to her large eyes.

" What do you dream about having? I'd love to eat some mashed potatoes and gravy. It's like eating warm pillows, all that goodness just melts in your mouth!!!--- that's how the books describe it, anyways."

" Maybe a big slice of berry pie with the crusts still attached. And only chilled for a few minutes so that the cream would dissolve on top." Timothy answered, swirling a finger as though he could feel the whip through his tips.

" A big, juicy steak!" Jane exclaimed, arms in the air as if it were waiting in front of her.

_ " Garlic knots,"  _ Timothy drooled.

The two deflated again, realizing just how far fetched those dreams were.

" How long do you think one could live without eating anything?" Jane muttered, staring blankly at the floor.

" I don't know. A few days, maybe?" Timothy responded stoically, himself entranced by the floor. 

" In Island of the Blue Dolphins, they say one could survive on hunger strike for up to 40 days! They'd just have to stay hydrated and drink tons of  _ water."  _ Jane informed, resting her head on her brother's shoulder. He scoffed.

" I highly doubt that. Besides, where would one even get water if they couldn't find food?" Jane shrugged.

" Beats me. But either way, your  _ demise  _ is bound to be really awful. First, your blood sugar goes sky high.

Then, your body starts  _ eating _ itself from the inside out, feasting on all the fats you have left. And once that runs out, it turns on the muscles. And what is the heart? A big fat  _ muscle _ ! You die a slow and painful death as your tissues are savagely devoured, betrayed as your body turns on itself." Jane bellowed darkly, twiddling her fingers with a crazed smile. The color visibly drained from Tim's face.

" Stop it Jane! You'll scare the twins!" 

" Seems like you're the only one who's scared here." Jane decided slyly

" Am not!" Tim lied.

" Are to! I thought  _ great Willoughbys we're bold and fearless!"  _ The girl mocked, even managing to mimic some of Tim's nasalic quality. The teen blushed.

" I am a great Willoughby!" He declared, only to have his voice crack and Jane laugh.

" Good. Then you shouldn't be afraid of little stories like that."

" I'm not!"

" Good."

" Good!"

All was silent after that, the only sounds being Mother and Father enjoying supper and the loud snores of the twins, who had become a lazy heap on the chair.

Soon, Jane too had fallen victim to slumber; she breathed peacefully in Tim's lap, a temporary escape from the hunger pains he assumed. Tim rested a hand over her hair and sighed. His eyelids fluttered and his legs felt numbed from sitting on the floor for so long. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had surely been a while. The boy sighed, accepting that for the third night in a row, there would be no food for the Willoughby children. His hope was broken as he prepared to gather his siblings for bed.

Just then, the dining hall door swung open. A large metal platter was thrown in, instantly stirring all who had been asleep.

And they could not believe their eyes. 

There was some leftover everything: it was enough to feed them all! 

Tim barely managed to grab some forks before they all started digging in, gobbling up the food without even reheating it. They ate to their heart's desire until their tummies were full and satisfied, not one speck of sauce left in sight.

" Ugh, that hit the spot," Jane breathed, giving a small belch as she pat her swollen belly. Timothy nodded in agreement.

" It sure has. All good things come to those who wait."

-

The Willoughby parents only drew one bath for their kids every night.

A water bill for all four of them would be far too,  _ expensive  _ ( excluding the fact that Father was a wealthy banker and Mother could afford to be a stay at home  **_mom_ ** and cook lavish banquets every night in that huge house, of course].

The Willoughby children stared at the steaming tub of bath water.

" Well," Tim started. 

Jane Willoughby crossed her arms and gave a tuckered pout before he could even start--- a charatered kind of pout that could usually be found on a spoiled child.

" I'm  _ not _ going last today. I got the dirtiest today and all that soap scum is going to get stuck in my hair."

But Jane, you take the longest baths out of all of us. Let the twins go first, while the water is still warm."

" We don't mind, Jane." Barnaby quickly piped up.

" Soap scum makes great water art." The other added. Jane huffed at Tim matter-of-factly.

" See, they agree with me. That's why the Barnabys are my favorite brothers!" She said grabbing the clean towel they all shared.

"Hey!" Timothy whined.

True to Tim's word, Jane took the longest bath of all, lathering in sweet soaps and even sneaking a pinch of her mother's bath salts. She pampered herself, as blossoming girls often do, seeming to forget about her brothers all together; by the time it was Tim's turn, the water had long cooled. 

The boy mumbled complaints the entire time, washing himself as quickly as he could so he could get the heck out of there.

The Barnabys didn't seem to mind the cold bath or the floating chunks of soap scum one bit; they even brought a toy boat model to keep them entertained as they washed. They shampooed each other's hair and played about for a while, though they weren't in there nearly as long as Jane.

The Willoughby children met up at the sink, all dressed in their matching white nightgowns to brush their teeth. Jane hummed a sound little melody as she combed through her long red hair, earning a glare of both annoyance and frightful concern from her older brother,Tim.

" Shhhh Jane, you know how Parents feel about noise."

The girl scowled.

" Your nagging is way louder than my humming," she snapped.

And she continued to hum.

~

" All teeth accounted for?"

The younger Willoughbys nodded, their breaths minty fresh.

" Alright brothers and  _ sister _ , to the hammocks." Tim declared, notioning towards the door. Jane bit her lip, twisting the lace hem of her nightgown.

" Oh, can't we stay up a little more?"

The girl suddenly pleaded.

" A Willoughby must get a sound night's rest after a long day of nothing. Besides, what is there to stay up for anyways?" Tim insisted already heading towards the door.

" Well, we're almost through with chapter two of Where the Red Fern Grows," The girl suggested with a pleading smile.

" Didn't you say that story sucked?" Tim quizzed with a purse to his lip. He wasn't sure which of the two had said it, but one had said it.

The Barnabys simply shrugged.

" It does not, it's just, really slow moving. It's got a nice  _ aesthetic."  _ Jane tried in a flowery tone. Tim crossed his arms; he clearly wasn't sold. Jane flushed and went on. 

" Just think, a nice story after a calming hot bath-"

_ " *Cold,"  _ Tim corrected flatly

" Cuddled up in  _ both _ of our blankets and-- Oh! A pillow fort! We could build a pillow fort, Tim! The Barnabys make the best pillow forts in the world!"

That compliment earned two wide smiles from the twins.

" And  _ what if _ we all had a hot cup of tea to sip on while we listened??" She added, batting her lashes. Tim waved his arms frantically.

" Oh no.  _ Nononononono _ . We are not doing pillow forts, we are not having tea. What if the kettle whistles? Parents will be upset!" He shrieked, though not protesting the story. Maybe he wanted to do voices after all.

" We'll pull it off the fire before it even gets the chance." Jane promised.

" No, too risky. We'll do tea another night. When Parents are less…. _ awake." _

Jane deflated with a moan, a pout on her lips.

"Come on Tim,  we like tea: 

**Tea!**

**Tea!**

**Tea!"**

She egged on her little brothers, who quickly got the memo and started chanting with her:

**_" Tea! Tea! Tea! Tea!"_ ** they all chorused

Tim winced as their rallying was getting louder .

_ " Shhh _ ok ok tea! Just, no more noise!"

Success. 

" Yaay!!" The children cheered.

With that, the four siblings quietly creeped back into the kitchen. They were expert creepers after having such  _ noise sensitive  _ parents.

Tim's hands were visibly trembling as he softly filled the kettle with water.

The possibility of being caught was enough to turn his nerves into jumping beans under his skin. 

The twins swept that lucky storage closet and were able to find some peppermint herb tea bags.

Tim had a death glare on the kettle as the water boiled up, prepared to rip it away the second it made as much as a squeak.

Jane, on the other hand, was far less stressed about the situation.

She was so elated in fact, she felt the moment called for a merry little tune:

_ It's late at night _

_ Peppermint tea  _

_ In big china mugs, oh so hot and steamy  _

_ We're gonna read books _

_ Fables and tales _

_ Wrapped up in blankets _

_ Cus' up in our rooms there are no curtails _

_ Dinner was amazing _

_ Pasta and bread  _

_ No food for one more second _

_ And I might have been dead _

_ We also ate chicken  _

_ Though it could've been beef _

_ Tim is so scared  _

_ That he shakes like a leaf _

The hair stood up on Timothy's arms as the twins chuckled at the last few lines of Jane's jiggle.

He snapped.

" **_Jane! Stop singing!_ ** "

At that instant, the pot sprouted with steam, a high pitched whine whistling about the kitchen. The twins lurched forward, mesmerized with the whole ordeal.

Tim however, nearly lost his mind.

He scrambled to get the pot off the fire, almost dropping it on himself a few times.

But he managed to get a hold of everything, even if he were a second's away from fainting.

And in the end, all four Willoughby children had their very own cup of piping hot, two-sugar-cubbed, peppermint tea.

~

They all huddled together with steaming mugs tight in their grasps

The Barnabys had built the most elaborate pillow fort with every cushion in their library--- it was more like a small house.

Timothy stood before them with a certain chapter book in hand.

His tongue burned from sipping his tea too quickly, but he'd make a decent narrator all the same. The teen cleared his throat and opened to chapter two.

  
  


_ " Our home was in a beautiful valley far _

_ back in the rugged Ozarks. The country _

_ was new and sparsely settled. The land _

_ we lived on was Cherokee land, allotted _

_ to my mother because of the Cherokee _

_ blood that flowed in her veins. It lay in a _

_ strip from the foothills of the mountains to _

_ the banks of the Illinois River in _

_ northeastern Oklahoma."  _ Timothy began in a boisterous, seasoned-old-man voice.

The twins both gasped in astonishment, taking a slow attentive sip of their drinks. Tim went on.

_ " The land was rich, black, and fertile. To a ten-year-old country boy it was the _

_ most beautiful place in the whole wide _

_ world, and I took advantage of it all. I _

_ roamed the hills and the river bottoms. I _

_ knew every game trail in the thick _

_ canebrakes, and every animal track that _

_ was pressed in the mud along the riverbanks." _

" Oh! Do you think Billy could pick out the prints of wild cats? I've read that their marks are especially hard to pick out because they're so similar to house cats!"

Jane exclaimed excitedly. The only answer she got was a shushing from the twins. Timothy read on.

_ " My dog-wanting became so bad I began _

_ to lose weight and my food didn’t taste _

_ good any more. Mama noticed this and she had a talk with Papa. _

_ “You’re going to have to do _

_ something,” she said. “I never saw a boy _

_ grieve like that. It’s not right, not right at _

_ all.” _

_ “I know,” said Papa, “and I feel just as _

_ badly as you do, but what can I do? You _

_ know we don’t have that kind of money.” _

Tim paused to take an in-character sip of his tea, which garnered a laugh from his siblings.

_ " I stayed up and listened to them until the _

_ last tones of the hound’s voice died away _

_ in the daylight hours. _

_ That morning I was determined to have _

_ some hounds. I went again to Mama. This _

_ time I tried bribery. I told her if she’d get _

_ me a hunting dog, I’d save the money I _

_ earned from my furs, and buy her a new _

_ dress and a boxful of pretty hats. _

_ That time I saw tears in her eyes. It _

_ made me feel all empty inside and I cried _

_ a little, too. By the time she was through _

_ kissing me and talking to me, I was sure I _

_ didn’t need any dogs at all. I couldn’t _

_ stand to see Mama cry." _

The three looked on with concern, entirely entranced by the tale.

_ " The next night I heard the hound again. I _

_ tried to cover my head with a pillow to _

_ shut out the sound. It was no use. _

_ By the little wrinkles that bunched up _

_ on her forehead, I could tell that Mama _

_ wasn’t satisfied. Papa came in during one _

_ of these inspections. Mama told him she _

_ was worried about my health. _

_ “Aw,” he said, “there’s nothing wrong _

_ with him. It’s just because he’s been _

_ cooped up all winter. A boy needs _

_ sunshine, and exercise. He’s almost _

_ eleven now, and I’m going to let him help _

_ me in the fields this summer. That will put _

_ the muscles back on him.” _

_ I thought this was wonderful. I’d finally _

_ grown up to be a man. I was going to help _

_ Papa with the farm." _

Tim concluded the chapter, closing his book. The sound of soft snores filled the room with their gentle whispers.

The boy smiled as he peered down at all his siblings, each sound asleep in the pillow fort. He sighed, placing the copy aside gently as not to rouse them. A story always did the trick.

It had been a good day.

With that, the boy snuggled up close to Jane and the Barnabys, their warmth soothing him.

It wasn't long before his lids grew heavy.

He decided that  _ Where The Red Fern Grows _ did suck before he slipped into a deep slumber.


	2. The Barnabys get sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They took one too many cold baths
> 
> This chapt will probably be split in two parts for a lil
> 
> *I watched the movie again and felt like adding to this  
> Idk where this will go it's just 4 fun

Tim woke up the next day to a dull sunlight streaming in through the large library window. He was confused for a second before he remembered the night's events. The boy yawned, sitting up and stretching. He was delighted to have no muscle aches having swapped out his back-craning hammock for a cozy pillow fort, even if only for a night.  _ The Barnabys truly do make the best pillow forts _ , Timothy thought to himself. At this, Tim looked around for his twin brothers. He soon found them, nestled snugly on top of one another in a deep slumber. The teen smiled to himself at how adorable they looked (it was only while the twins were sleeping that they didn't look creepy.) Jane, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. The girl was usually always up before her brothers, and this pattern usually always gave Tim a mini heart attack.

Jane Willoughby was the most ambitious and mischievous of the siblings; who knew what kind of high jinks she could be getting herself into?!

As if to echo the thought, the wails and bickers of Mother and Father finally bled into Tim's groggy perception from downstairs, distress evident in their calls.

"  _ Janeee,"  _ The teen groaned. He was quick on his feet, making himself dizzy from the sudden shift.

Tim quickly made his way downstairs, careful not to make a sound. He could hear his parents complaining from the kitchen, and curiously looked through the keyhole to investigate.

Mother was dramatically sobbing, mascara running down her face and staining her housewife apron. Father crooned over her, purring soothingly against her temple.

"Oh Father, what a bad egg that Jennifer is." She declared, weeping into his chest.

"The benedict Dear?"

" No, that awful hallion with the four eyes."

" Ah yes, him. And what a sneaky, bottomless portal he is too- looting all the day's luncheon.  _ When poor Mumsy worked so hard on it _ ." Walter cupped her face pathetically as she whined like an injured puppy.

" Fret not my darling. When I see him next I shall cast him into the coal bin with  _ such  _ a force." He promised with a sharp smile.

" You'd cater to me so, Father dearest?" Helga beckoned, looking up at her husband through glossy eyes.

" Anything for my kitten, my  _ principessa,  _ the love of my life." He lipped, stroking her willowing neck with a gentle squeeze.

_ " Do it Father!" _

Tim quickly drew away as the two started to passionately make out with each other. His stomach filled with dread after hearing the threats towards  _ Jennifer _ , but it was surely short lived.

"  _ Pssst Tim!" _

Tim whipped around to the stairwell to see the girl in question, holding a large tray in her hand. She notioned for her brother to follow her with a wide grin on her face before she disappeared into the next room. 

"No, Jane?!" Timothy hissed as he scrambled after her.

He followed his sister all the way up to the library, where she set the tray down with what looked to be a struggle. Timothy fumed.

" Jane Adaline Millicent Willoughby! What in the name of magenta mustache do you think you are doing?!"

"Getting us food. My pallet wasn't really up for the whole bouillon cube breakfast thing today so I kinda improvised." Jane removed the cloche proudly.

The platter had two egg benedicts, almond turnovers still warm and flaky, and four mugs of hot chocolate, all sided with a colorful array of fresh berries.

Tim couldn't even stop himself from drooling, looking over the tray starry eyed.

" Jane, this…. is a  _ lot  _ of food! How did you get all of this?!"

Jane's pride was replaced with a  _ look _ .

" I  _ asked _ politely and the nice couple gave me a tip." She smiled.

" That's not funny."

" Well I bet it's delicious. And me and the Barnabys are gonna eat it all up if you're just gonna sulk all day."

" In your  _ dreams," _

Tim swiped up a fork and licked his lips ready to dig in. He pierced a line of fruit and carefully sampled the tangy juices before stuffing his mouth. He deflated and moaned in delight.

" Good heavens," he dragged between chews.

" You've **_got_** to try these, Jane.

Jane, however, had already busied herself with a pastry. She took a greedy bite, the shell crumbling into a sweet snowfall of flakes around a smoky center.

" No,  _ you  _ have got to try  _ these _ ,"

She lent Tim the end to have a taste, which he happily accepted. 

"  **_Mmmmm!"_ ** He beckoned dramatically, his mouth full and lips now dressed with icing.

" Right?" Jane agreed, reaching for a cup to wash it down; a sip soon became a series of thirsty glups as she tasted the warm silkiness that was hot chocolate for the first time.

"Come on twins, eat up; I got the benedict for you guys, special."

Both Barnabys stared openly as their older siblings gobbled up the platter. They didn't touch anything, but eventually retorted with a raspy,

" No thanks Jane. We're not hungry."

"  _ Definitely  _ not hungry."

Tim and Jane stopped dead in their tracks at those bizzare remarks. With food so scarce, the Willoughby children were  _ never _ not hungry.

" So you guys speak Italian now?" Jane said, tossing a raspberry into her mouth.

Her brothers just stared at the platter, both twirling their nightgowns in identical fashion. Jane frowned.

" What do you mean not hungry?" She was a bit concerned now.

The pair were unmoved.

" You wanna try my turnover?"

They shook their heads.

" A bite of fruit?"

They shook their heads.

" Hot coco? It is  _ so  _ good."

One shuttered, and the two shook their heads more vigorously.

"Hm. Maybe they're breatharian now."

The girl concluded reaching for the benedict excitedly.

The remaining poach stared back at Tim temptingly.

It did look dreamy, but the eldest was more concerned with other matters.

He walked over to his brothers and looked at the two closely.

Their cheeks were flushed a dark scarlet and the bags under their eyes were just a bit deeper than usual.

Tim reached under their bangs at the same instance to feel their foreheads. He hummed in contemplation.

" Jane, do they feel a bit warm to you?" The teen called as one of the Barnabys shivered tiredly.

Jane stopped attacking her egg thoughtfully.

" Lemme feel," she protested, licking the hollandaise from her fingertips before mirroring Timothy. Her face softened.

" Ooh yeah, they are a bit warm."

" Hm." Tim buzzed again, seeming to have arrived at a conclusion with a second inspection of his brothers' forehead. Jane could see it on his face.

" You don't think,"

" I think it is so Jane; the twins have fallen ill." The teen diagnosed with a sigh.

" Ill?"

" Ill?"

The Barnabys asked in coherence.

" You both seem to have elevated temperatures and darker eye bags than  _ usual." _

The pair frown at that last bit. Tim went on.

" Do you too have any other symptoms?"

  
  


" A headache."

" Definitely a headache. And tired eyes." 

" They feel like sandbags. A bit of soreness," 

" Fatigue,"

" Body Aches,"

" Muscle cramps,"

" Chills."

_ " And I can't feel my throat." _

_ " And I can't feel my throat." _

" Wow. You guys  _ are _ sick," Jane gawked sympathetically.

**To be continued**


End file.
